


I Wanna Go Back

by trancer



Category: Actor RPF, Glee RPF
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/F, Femslash, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-02
Updated: 2010-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancer/pseuds/trancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Semi-sort of sequel to ‘Regrets, I‘ve Had A Few‘. Rachel‘s POV. Written for the <span><a href="http://glee-angst-meme.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://glee-angst-meme.livejournal.com/"><b>glee_angst_meme</b></a></span>. Prompt - ‘they were drunk. They had sex. Only Dianna didn't know Lea was still a virgin and she can't remember if Lea said 'yes'. And yes, Virginia, there is a happy ending!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Go Back

“This is sooo not fair,” Dianna says to you, flopping down onto one of the hard plastic chairs of the choir set.

“What?” you barely mumble, not lifting your eyes from your iPhone as you make an update to your Facebook page.

“Heather and Naya,” Dianna points with her eyes. “They’ve only known each other for, like, two seconds and already they’ve hooked up.”

That gets your attention. Your eyes go straight to the two girls. They’re standing close together in a corner, giggling over something on Naya’s cell. You turn to Dianna. “Seriously?”

“Wow,” she turns her face to yours. “For a lesbian New Yorker who spent, like, a billion years on Broadway, your gaydar sucks.”

Which is true. Your gaydar does truly, indeed, suck. But you’ve accepted your limitations and figure now’s not the time to belabor the point, especially when there are more important things to discuss. Like the latest hookup between your cast mates.

“God,” Dianna slumps down in her chair, folding her arms sulkily over her chest. “I need a boyfriend. God, no!” she huffs, shaking her head as if getting a boyfriend is like THE worst idea ever. Your heart, having just skipped a beat at the idea of her getting a boyfriend, agrees. “What I totally need is a girlfriend.” She then sighs heavily, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. “I just need to get laid. I haven‘t had sex in, like, four months,” she pauses, face creasing in frustration. “I think I broke my vibrator last night.”

“How do you break a vibrator?” Of course, it’s only after the question has left your lips that you realize what you wanted to ask her how _did_ she break her vibrator. Because there are images floating in your head now, images that make your pulse rise and a dull throbbing sensation to suddenly flare between your legs.

She opens her eyes, smiles at you with a cheeky and kinda sultry half-grin. “Like you don’t know.”

Which, you know, you don’t. Because you’ve never actually _owned_ a vibrator. You’re thinking about saying this to her, at least, when the two of you get back to the trailer you share when, suddenly, the Director comes back onset and the conversation ends.

**

Another country, another press tour, another hotel, and you’re all (just the girls) are crammed into Amber and Jenna’s room, dressed in your pj’s, piled on the bed, cuddling and snuggling like a bunch of kittens. It wasn’t like anyone said ‘hey, let’s play 20 questions’, but you’re all still getting to know each other and the questions just come naturally. But, for you, they’re starting to get too intimate, too personal.

“So, Lea, your turn,” Jenna says and you can feel all of their eyes on you. “When’d you lose your virginity?”

“A lady never kisses and tells,” the words fire so quickly off your lips you almost can’t believe you’ve said them. It’s not that you don’t know them and they don’t know you. You don’t think they’d make you feel embarrassed for being the only one in the room who’s still a virgin. It’s just.. not in this way, not like this. Because if you say it, you won’t be able to _not_ look in her eyes when you do. Not sure your eyes won’t spill the other secret you’ve kept locked inside.

“Right! And when you find a lady,” it’s Amber’s voice that cuts through the immediate silence, breaking whatever tension you think has been building in the air. “You’ll let us know.”

They laugh. Your cheeks blaze hot. Dianna’s laughing, her eyes find yours and you..

Find something of interest on the blanket.

**

Dianna’s having sex.. with Heather.. in the next room. They’re not loud just.. audible. Just enough. The soft squeak of the bed - thumpa, thumpa, thumpa. The moans - ughhhh, ughhhh, ughhhh. Only you can’t tell if it’s Heather or Dianna making the low and throaty sounds.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. You were new to California, Dianna had the space in her apartment. Now, you’re a cliché, so close but so far away. And it cuts. There’s the blade in your heart which twists with each ‘ughhhh.. thumpa’ coming from the next room. The hot fist in your stomach, squeezing your guts, burning between your legs.

You take your pillow and squeeze it against your ear.

 _You’re just friends. You’re just friends. You’re just friends._

**

“Jesus, Lea,” Jonathon’s gesticulating wildly, practically yelling in the small café. “Just TELL HER!”

“I can’t!” you force whisper back.

“Why not?”

You sigh, run your hand nervously through your hair. “It’ll just complicate things. She‘s my best friend.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” he says with a little boy voice and pouts, sticking out his lower lip which is enough to get you to laugh for the first time in days.

“You,” you smile. “Are my best friend who is a boy. She is my best friend who is a girl.”

“Fine,” he chuffs. But then his face is serious. Concerned. Forearms on the table, he leans forward. “I don’t get you. You’ve never been afraid to go after what you want. Why now?”

Why now?

“Because I’ve never done _this_ before.”

This. Such a small word that means so many large things. There was never time for ‘this‘. Your life, so focused on your career, was always a string of practices, vocal lessons, rehearsals, auditions, recordings, performances, interviews, and on and on and on. There was never time for dating. There was never time for relationships. And there was definitely never time for sex.

Jonathon reaches out with his hand and clasps it around your wrist. He’s always been your rock. “Just tell her.”

**

Another party with the cast. The alcohol’s made its way to your head and your head feels all buzzy. You need some space. Just for a minute. There’s a corner in the room that’s almost private. You light a cigarette because you need a moment to yourself. Dianna’s been flirting with Cory _all_ night and you’re not sure you can go back to the apartment and listen to them fucking. Again.

You’re not jealous. You are NOT jealous. There’s just been this _tension_ building within you. The two of you are around each other practically 24/7. She’s your best friend. That’s what you cling to. Friends. This thing you’re feeling will eventually recede. It always does.

It always does.

“Hey.”

Smiling, because it’s her, you turn your head towards her. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, her eyes a bit droopy. She’s about as buzzed as you are.

Suddenly, her arms are wrapping around your waist. You turn your head to keep from blowing smoke in her face and she just.. pulls you closer. She’s against you - hips, stomach, breasts and you close your eyes because this has to be a dream because you’re not Cory, or Heather, or..

A shiver runs through you. Her face is against your neck, her lips are against your neck and you just felt the tip of it against your skin. The shiver ends somewhere between your legs because you’re just one giant, aching _throb_ now. And she’s swaying her hips, slowly grinding against you. And if she keeps doing that, you might not be able to keep this secret inside you any longer.

“Dianna,” you half-gasp, half-giggle.

“Lea,” she mumbles into your neck and the vibrations send another shiver through your body. It’s like you’re rooted to the floor because you can’t move.

She pulls her head up from your neck, gazing into your eyes. “What would you say if I kissed you right now?”

You blink, squint. This _has_ to be a dream because Dianna did not just ask if she could kiss you. You’re about to say ‘yes’ when her lips are on yours. Your legs go kinda rubbery because, no, this really isn’t a dream. She’s really kissing you. You. Lips opening to release the moan you’ve been holding since the first time you saw her and her tongue is snaking into your mouth. You’ve initiated kisses before, you’ve been kissed back before but you’ve _never_ been kissed like this. You’ve never wanted it as badly as you do now.

Her hand is inside your dress, cupping your breast, thumb over your hardened nipple. She moans when she touches you. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world because, this time, you’re the one making Dianna moan. Now, it’s your hips that are slowly swaying, slowly grinding against hers.

You’re not sure which one of you breaks the kiss to come up for air. You chuckle softly, remembering that you’re holding a cigarette. Only the cherry’s burned down to the filter because you two have been kissing that long.

“I guess I didn’t need this.”

She leans in, pressing her forehead against yours. Her eyes heated, seductive, serious. “Let’s go home.”

**

The drive to her apartment takes FOREVER and you seriously wanna keep making out. But ‘Pervy the Cab Driver’ is in the front seat, his eyes a little too focused on the rearview mirror and the occupants in the back. And as much as you want to kiss Dianna, this night is too special for you to sully it by giving some creep a peep show.

So you just hold hands. It’s like you have opening night jitters. You’re nervous. Shaking. It’s a little hard to breathe. Someone once compared it to being in love. You think they might be right.

**

Her hands are shaking as she tries to unlock the door. You wrap your arms around her waist, press yourself against her.

“Nervous?” you laugh to relieve some of the tension. Because maybe she does know.

The door opens and she practically yanks you into the room. She’s all over you. Her lips on yours. Her hands on you. You can barely breathe. Barely think. You’re in her bedroom. She’s pulling off your dress. You’re pulling off hers.

 _This is really happening. This is really happening._

You’re naked on her bed. You’re not ashamed of your body. And it’s not like you’ve never seen people staring at you before. Still, no one’s ever looked at you like she does. It’s like you can feel her eyes on you. And they burn so good. Then, she’s looking at you - there - the part of you that’s never been given. The part of you you want to give to her. When she looks into your eyes again, you have to look away because you really think you’re about to cry. Because this is it. Waiting, for the right time, for _her_ , the look in her eyes, validates every decision you’ve ever made.

On the bed, she starts kissing you. She starts at your ankle and it’s like the most erotic thing in the world, the sensation of her lips on your skin so far from your mouth. She moves up, kissing your calf, knee, thigh, inside of your thigh. You open your legs, opening yourself to her, _offering_ yourself to her. Her tongue touches your flesh and the moan coming from your throat amazes even you. In your wildest dreams, you never imagined it would feel like THIS. She moans into you, it’s like lightening shot up your spine. Because you’re writhing like a live-wire now. You want to stay still, to concentrate on this thing she’s doing to you but you can’t. You just can’t.

You don’t realize she’s stopped until she’s halfway up your body. Eyes opening, you look at her and kinda tense. There’s this _look_ in her eyes, hungry and urgent. And your head’s still spinning - from the alcohol still coursing through your system, from the sensations she made still rippling through your body - like things are going a bit too fast and you just need a moment to catch your breath.

“Di..” you whisper. She cuts you off with a kiss. The kiss is hard. She’s pressing down on you too much. You place your hands on her shoulders. Because you just want her to.. SLOW DOWN. She’s strong. Stronger than you ever realized because your hands are being pulled over your head. She’s clasping them together, holding you down at the wrists.

She arcs her hips, you feel flesh against your leg. It’s warm, wet and slippery and you gasp at the sensation. Then her leg is between yours, thigh pressing _there_. It’s different. It’s good. As she begins to grind, you realize if the two of you do it like this you could come together. You lift the leg not trapped between hers, drape it over her hips.

“God,” she growls, literally growls in your ear. “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

Her hand slides between the two of you. It slides over your clit, lowers. You feel her finger against your opening and that’s okay. But there’s two, no, three there and you freeze. That’s too much. Too many. Why won’t she slow down?

“Di..” you gasp, pulling your lips from her. Not like this. Not like this. “Wait..”

She pushes her fingers inside you.

**

You awake before she does. Actually, you never really went back to sleep. Not really. She came and pretty much passed out right afterwards. And you just laid there, her body curled up next to yours, staring at the ceiling as the pain between your legs subsided and the tears slowly flowed down your cheeks.

You slide off the bed, careful not to wake her. You dress quickly, practically run out of her apartment. Downstairs in the main foyer, you can’t stop your hands from shaking as you dial a cab.

**

The shower doesn’t stop until you’ve cried your last tear, until you’ve scrubbed her off you. You feel guilty, ashamed. Used. You thought you were different. No. You thought she would treat _you_ differently. Different than Cory, or Heather, or Mark. She wanted to fuck you and that’s all you were. A fuck.

And you gave it to her because you had the audacity to think you were special.

**

Another cab ride and you’re at the beach, back to the surf wall. You spend the first hour doing nothing but staring at the tide. You spend the next hour deleting all the cd’s she uploaded onto your iPod because you can’t listen to anything that reminds you of her. The next couple hours are kind of a blur as you sit listening to music, staring at the surf, chain smoking the pack of cigarettes that have been in your pocket for almost a month, drifting in and out of sleep.

It’s after sunrise when you awake. One last song of hers you forgot to delete blaring in your ears. ‘Not Gon’ Cry’.

It seems fitting.

**

At the café, you eat eggs covered in cheese, bacon, milk, coffee with real cream. It was supposed to make you feel better, betraying another value because it’s something you shared with her. It doesn’t.

You throw up in the bathroom.

**

Your cell rings. It’s Dianna. You delete it without listening to the message.

**

It’s cold for Southern California. Not that you feel it in your heavy coat and scarf. Not that you feel much of anything. All you feel is numb.

You spend the day walking, listening to music until the battery in your iPhone goes dead. You buy a ticket to a movie just to have someplace to sit down, someplace that’s dark. Only to get awakened by an usher seven hours later because no one noticed you’d fallen asleep.

You check into a hotel because you don’t want to go home just yet. You’ve spent the entire day not dealing with what’s just happened in your life and you don’t want to face that reality when you get home.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you check your phone. There are, like, a billion messages waiting for you. Most of them from Dianna. But there’s only one number you’re interested in. One number you dial.

You’re already crying by the second ring. Everyone you need is so far away. You’re so alone.

The line picks up and you can’t speak because you’re already crying, sobbing.

“Lea, what’s wrong?”

You collect yourself enough to push out the word, voice wavering and thin.

“Mom..”

**

There are a billion messages waiting for you when you finally check them. And everybody’s, like, freaked the fuck out. It makes you feel a little bit better. A little. That they’re all this concerned about you. But, you realize, they’re concerned because Dianna’s alerted them. Which should make you feel better because you know _she_ knows that she did something wrong. But, instead of feeling better, it just pisses you off because she never should have done it in the first place.

You never should have let her.

You ‘cc’ your response to everyone, just not wanting to deal with any of them at the moment.

‘Thanks for your concern. I’m fine. See you Monday. - L’

Send. Done.

**

It’s early Sunday morning when you finally make your way back to your apartment.

“Hey.”

Dianna’s there. Dianna’s THERE, in YOUR fucking apartment. Standing there looking at you with puffy and red eyes like she’s been crying all night. Hands in her pockets, looking hangdog and sheepish, like YOU were the one who fucking hurt HER.

You want to yell, scream, slap your hands across her face. ‘I was in love with you’ ‘why’d you treat me like that?’ ‘How could you?’ ‘Why don’t you love me?’

Instead, she takes a step towards you and the movement hits you like a blow.

“Listen, Lea..”

You step back, raise your hand defensively. You don’t want her anywhere near you. She tore your heart into a million pieces and if she gets any closer, you’re afraid the little that’s left will break, leaving you with nothing left.

“I think you should leave,” is all you manage to say.

“Okay,” she says. And you realize how little you meant to her because she’s not even willing to fight for you. Maybe she’s sorry she hurt you. Maybe she’s sorry she fucked you. But she never loved you, not like you thought.

Not like you loved her.

“And set the key over there.”

She walks through the door. She looks like she has something else to say.

You close the door in her face.

**

It’s hard, asking for another trailer, knowing it’ll be a like a mega-ton bomb dropped on a glass factory. But, you have to do it. You can’t be around her right now. You need space, distance, time.

The week is hard, so fucking hard. Because this week is all about Rachel and Quinn. Like a soldier in war, you fall back on your training and all those years of discipline ingrained in you. Saying the lines is easier than you imagined, you just slip into Rachel and you’re her. Then, the Director yells ’cut’ and you’re Lea again, staring into Dianna’s eyes.

And you have to look away.

**

There’s a knock on your trailer door. Which isn’t unexpected because there’s *always* someone knocking on your trailer door.

“Come in.”

Except, you never expected the person knocking on your trailer door to be HER. Because, she’s in your trailer now, staring at you like she’s almost afraid, like you’re going to throw something at her.

All you can do is sit and stare. You needed time, space, distance. And here she is and there’s an ache in your heart because, even though it’s been a week, you’ve actually missed her. Really missed her. You never really had her, at least, not in the way you wanted. But you love her and you know she loves you, even if it’s not the way you wanted.

“Can we talk?” she says. Only you don’t know what there is to say or what you want to say. But she’s already talking, pleading with her eyes. “I’m sorry, Lea. I am so, _so_ sorry. I didn’t know..”

The words hit you like a punch - the acknowledgement. “That’s the part that hurts the most,” your voice is tinged with anger and sadness. “It wasn’t the sex. Okay, that was part of it. I mean, you were so sweet to me, so loving and then..” you stop because you can feel yourself breaking again. You‘ve spent all week putting yourself back together. You don‘t the strength to do it again. “You were my best friend.”

“I didn’t know. I thought..”

She thought. The anger bursts from you. “You thought what everyone else thinks!” You jerk up onto your feet, tossing the script in your hands onto the couch, balling your hands into fists. “Lea’s a slut. Lea’s been around the block a couple times. I’m sleeping with everybody. But from _you_?” Just like that, the anger‘s gone and you‘re just.. empty. You slump back onto the couch. “I wanted it to be special,” the words come out in a low whisper, like you have nothing more to give and all that‘s left is emptiness.

“What do we do now?” she asks.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Now. She says it now. It feels like you’ve been waiting all your life to hear those words come from her mouth. But now? It’s too late. All you can do is look at her. “I know.”

She leaves. You book the first flight to New York.

**

You feel kinda pathetic, clutching onto Jonathon and crying like a baby as his arms wrap around you. You’ve never been so glad to be home, on safe, familiar territory. Where you’re not reminded of her at every turn.

**

The beer in your hands is warm, flat. You sit on Jonathon’s couch, slowly peeling off the label. You know that with any story, it’s not about the content but about the telling. You’ve told Jonathon _everything_ and now you’re thinking about how the words in your head may have come out of your mouth because he’s practically _seething_ , the anger is just radiating off him. Like he’s about one step away from calling the cops, or punching Dianna in the face. Which feels good to know there’s someone in your corner that’s so protective of you. But, after everything, you can’t hurt her.

“Jesus,” you gasp, looking at his face. Hand on his forearm, you squeeze. “It wasn’t like that. Really. I wanted it.”

He doesn’t believe you. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

“It wasn’t the sex.”

“Then what was it?”

“It was that moment where it felt like she was not with me but the person she thought I was. And I realized, ever since I moved to LA, I’ve been wearing my ‘Lea Armor’ and I’d been wearing it with the one person I didn’t have to. She thought I was someone else because I made her believe it.”

“That’s no excuse. If your armor was up, it was up for a reason.”

“My armor was up because I was in love with her and too chicken-shit to say anything. You, of all people, know what it‘s like to be in love with someone you‘re not sure will love you back.”

This quiets him. He calms down a little. You can feel his muscles relaxing under the hand you still have clamped to his arm.

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

You don’t even have to think about your answer. “Yes.”

“God,” he chuckles, relaxing a little more. “This is soo fucked up. Oh, and you might wanna change a few of the details if you decide to tell this story to your Mom. If you think *I* want to throttle her, tell your Mom that story the same way you told me.”

**

Being with Jonathon helps, a lot. Because the next day you’re calling Dianna. It’s not instinctual but it feels necessary, knowing how guilty she feels and letting her know you’re alright. The conversation is short and awkward but you’re smiling a little when it ends.

**

It’s almost like starting over. Only this time, you know how she feels about you, she knows how you feel. Except, the two of you never really talk about that. It’s just the big, pink elephant between you. She knows who you really are now but there’s still that damage. Damage she caused and you’re not quite ready to forgive her just yet. You keep your distance. You’re cordial to her. Professional. But you’re also wearing a little less of your armor, letting bits and pieces of the real Lea shine through.

Her eyes are on you constantly. Especially when she thinks you’re not looking. She’s a great actress. She’s just never been really good at wearing armor. Acting for Dianna is just another way of expressing the emotions she already wears on her really big, emotional sleeve.

**

Another day onset. It’s just the way things worked out, you standing next to Dianna because that‘s how the Director blocked it. It’s weird, because you’re not really sure how it happened, you’re reaching for something, kinda bending over and her hand is suddenly on the small of your back. It’s just something Dianna would do. Something she always used to do, but she hasn’t touched you as a friend in months.

It takes everything you have to keep your eyes from rolling in the back of your head. Because it feels _so_ good, the warmth of her palm, the length of her fingers. Your chest seizes from the sudden shiver running through you.

You glance at her through the corner of your eye. And she’s just - with the corner of her lower lip clasped adorably between her teeth - looking at you with this puppy-ish, pleading look on her face. There are no words but you hear them loud and clear. ‘Can I touch you?’

The color’s rushing to your cheeks because, God, right now you want more than her hand on the small of your back. But all you can do is answer with a soft, shy smile.

‘Yes.’

**

The end of the season has finally arrived. Everybody’s happy and sad at the same time because the past year has been like a dream for all of you.

You find a quiet corner for a little alone time, collect your thoughts while you smoke your last cigarette. You light it but, for some reason, just don’t have the heart to take a drag.

“Hey.”

How does she do this? Make you shudder with just the sound of her voice. She’s standing close but the distance is casual. It hurts because it’s like before - she’s so close but so far away.

“Hey,” you smile back, waving the lit cigarette. “It’s my last one. After this, I’m quitting.”

“Good for you,” her smile broadens.

Neither of you are sure what to say next, so the two of you just stand there listening to the music and the conversation around you. Needing something to do, you lift the cigarette to your lips, then just kinda stand there staring at the filter.

“Fuck it!” you finally say, looking around for something to put the damn thing out in. While she never openly disapproved, you knew how much the habit disappointed her. You’re not sure when making her happy became so important to you. Probably the day after you fell in love with her.

You turn back to her, nervously worrying your fingers together. You’re trying to think of something to say when the words just spill from your lips. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” It’s like the little puppy’s done good because her eyes are all bright and shiny right now. If she had a tail, it’d be wagging furiously back and forth right about now.

You will your body to move, to step closer towards her and the bright look in her eyes has gone all surprised and almost terrified. You tilt your head down, peer up at her, lips pulling into a coy smile. “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

You miss her. It’s not until right now, with that question hanging in the air, that you realize how much. Being apart from her, not having her in your life, it hurts. You’re tired of hurting. You’re tired of punishing her for hurting you. You’re tired of being alone. You’re tired of being without her.

Which is why you don’t wait for her to answer. Fingers on the corner of her chin, you bring your lips to hers. She whimpers in your mouth like she’s about to melt.

You draw your arms around her shoulders, open your lips to let her in. She accepts and her arms are wrapping around your waist, her heart beating heavily against your chest.

There’s a warmth seeping within you, more than desire or passion. Like the walls you’ve built around yourself have finally crumbled and you’re surprised at the person revealed underneath.

The kiss breaks. You nuzzle your nose along the side of hers, then bring your lips to her ear. “Take me home.”

**

She cries as the two of you kiss on your couch. You’ve been kissing for, like, an eternity. Her on her back, you pressed up against her just.. kissing. There’s an ache between your legs and it’s not like you’re ignoring it - this growing desire - you’re just really enjoying the kissing.

Then you feel her tears. See the pained expression on her face. She’s trying so hard not to break down in front of you. Her armor’s gone, it’s just Dianna and the guilt is killing her.

“I’msosorry.I’msosorry.I’msosorry,” she repeats endlessly in a forced whisper.

“Shh, it‘s okay,” you kiss her face as your tears mix with hers. “It’s okay.”

**

“You sure about this?” Jonathon’s reluctance is understandable but if he asks the question one more time you just might throttle him through the phone.

“Yes! God!” you laugh. “We’ve worked this all out. She’s not forcing me to move in with her. I want to be here.” The other end goes silent. Just as she damaged something between the two of you, she damaged something with Jonathon. Only he’s not quite so forgiving.

“I love her,” you sigh, almost dreamily.

“I know.” You can practically hear his eyes rolling in the back of his head, imagining the smile you know is there pulling at the corners of his lips. “While I would never use the words pussy and whipped in the same sentence regarding you, you soo totally are!”

“Puh-leez! If there’s any pussy that’s getting whipped in this house, it’s most definitely hers!”

“Eww,” he groans and you laugh. “I so did not need to hear that.”

**

It’s a second chance, moving back in with Dianna. But, it’s better than before. The two of you are kinda official now. The people in your life who matter know, maybe not what tore the two of you apart but certainly what drew you back together.

Dianna’s gentler with you. If such a thing is possible because she’s Dianna Agron, probably about the nicest, kindest, gentlest person you’ve ever met (barring, of course, the hellcat in heat she can turn into in the bedroom). Which was why you fell so hard for her.

The first argument is brutal. It all started over some random, superficial and stupid shit. The two of you stomping around the apartment like two-year-old’s, sniping at each other, using words as daggers. Though neither of you say anything you can’t take back.

Then, the two of you are standing across from each other in the living room, staring into each other’s eyes and you burst into giggles. Giggles that turn into a full-blown laughing fit on the couch, the kind where there are tears streaming from your eyes and you can’t really remember what was so funny but it’s too funny to stop laughing.

In a way, it was a test. To have that big blow out and still be standing together after the dust settles. You both pass.

She kisses you. You kiss her back. She pulls you onto her lap. Which you don’t mind. At all. The past month and a half have been like this, just kissing between you two. Dianna completely content to let you take the wheel. No pressure. All patience. You think she may just be content to let you do this to her - just kissing - for the rest of her life.

You’re no longer content. No longer patient. It’s been building within you for a long time now. Actually, since the day onset when she placed her hand on the small of your back. You love her. You want her.

You’re ready.

The kissing stops because the realization’s hit you hard. Tonight might be the night. Hell, with the way the heat’s flaring between your legs, you really, really hope it is.

“Lea?” she asks, looking up at you, tentative and concerned.

You’ve been holding your breath. It exhales passed your lips in a heated rush. “Make love to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She presses her lips to yours. Her hands are on your ass and she’s lifting, literally, lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

There are no words. There’s literally nothing left for the two of you to say. She carries you into the bedroom, setting you down. The two of you stare into the other’s eyes as the both of you undress. You’re the first, slipping under the sheets, extending your hand out to her. She takes it, lets you guide her to the bed where you pull her on top of you.

More kissing, and she’s so tender and sweet. You didn’t think you could feel this way from just kissing because the two of you have been going at it forever. But you’ve never just kissed like this before - skin against skin, the heat slowly building until you’re both covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Her hand roams, fingers trembling against your skin as she touches your breast, runs her fingers down your side, down your thigh and back up again.

“Di..” you groan, arching into her as her lips ghost along your neck.

“I love you,” she whispers and you want to say ‘I love you’ back. But then her lips are around your nipple and you instantly lose the ability to form words. Your hands are by your head, just kinda flailing about, clenching and unclenching into tight fists. She’s going back and forth from nipple to nipple, suckling, licking, nibbling. You’re writhing beneath her, like your bones want to slither out of your skin. The heat within you is so intense, you really think you just might explode. And she hasn’t even touched you *there*!

“Di..” croaks from your throat.

“What is it, baby?” She lifts her head, eyes heavy and lidded. “Tell me.”

There’s saliva but your mouth feels so dry. You can swear with the best of them but you don’t want to use the crude words to express your desires. “Go down on me,” is all you can think of that doesn’t sound crude or cheap. “Please.”

“Anything for you.”

She slides down, spreads your thighs open. There’s this moment of anticipation, where you can’t look down and you can’t close your eyes, so you just stare at the ceiling feeling her warm breath on you.

Her tongue slithers across your sex. You lose all coordination, like your entire body is in motion but nothing’s working right. Your back’s arching, stomach’s clenching, thighs trembling, hips wriggling, chest seizing, heart thumping.

She’s gentle and slow. Almost too slow because it’s starting to feel a lot like torture now. Her tongue’s swirling around your clit, just around and around but never really touching, not where you want.

The tip of her finger presses gently at your opening. Instantly, your hips buck as the rest of your body freezes.

“Lea,” she says quickly, almost panicky. “I wasn’t..”

“I know,” you say, lifting your head and gazing down at her because you want her to see your eyes when you say it. “I trust you.”

She goes back down, wraps her lips around your clit, places the tip of her finger at the vee of your opening. And you close your eyes, wincing, not because it hurts but because you never realized how unbelievably, fucking _sensitive_ you are there. She starts suckling, doing a come-hither motion with her finger, brushing the pad of her fingertip against that spot and you are just fucking DONE. And it’s that keening, writhing, fireworks exploding, toe-curling orgasm you’ve always heard about. Except this time, it’s you. It’s her doing this to you. And never in a million years did you expect it to feel like this. There are tears in your eyes, your moans turn to sobs, the trembles to shudders.

She’s clambering up the bed, on you but not on you, her hands cupping your face. “Oh God, did I hurt you?”

You can’t speak, merely shake your head back and forth as you wrap your arms around her, pulling her tight against you. Nails digging into her flesh as you cling desperately to her. Your armor’s gone, stripped away until there is nothing left and everything underneath, everything that is you is hers now. She is your armor now.

“Anything..” you find your voice, even if it’s weak and quavering. “I’m yours.. Anything.”

You feel her face against yours, nodding in understanding. Just as she’s stripped away your armor, you’ve stripped away hers. She couldn’t take back that moment, just make sure this one was special.

She holds you long after the shakes have subsided. It feels so damn good to be in her arms like this. The two of you went through the darkness, came out alive, better than before. You came out together.

You find the words you‘ve been meaning to say since the first day you met her. “I love you.”

She pulls you tighter, the hand on the back of your head slowly caressing you. “I love you, too.”

“Di?”

“Mmmm?”

“I think I’d love you even more,” you purr, kissing the corner of her jaw. “If you did _that_ again.”

“For you?” She merely smiles, eyes going heated and dark as she gently rolls you onto your back and begins to descend. “Anything.”

END


End file.
